Stolen by the Highlander (5 page)

The Mackintosh stood at his side and nodded at the two. It was clear to her that Caelan was trying to protect Brodie in this. She clenched her hands into fists, awaiting the telling of her brother’s last moments. The hall grew silent in anticipation, too.

‘We were all drinking,’ Caelan explained. ‘All of us. Brodie drank more than was usual for him.’

‘They seemed to be just talking, but then they began arguing,’ the other man said. ‘Over her, over Lady Arabella.’

She gasped as everyone turned to look at her and then Brodie. They had argued over her? Arabella met his gaze and could not hold it. Dear God, what had been said between them?

‘Why did no one intervene?’ The Mackintosh asked. ‘You all know how important the truce is. How violating it would not be tolerated and could result in further bloodshed.’ The other man looked at Caelan and back at his chieftain before saying anything.

‘It happened so quickly. We were all...’ He gestured as though trying to think of an explanation.

‘Drunk?’ her father offered. ‘Too drunk to use reason? Too drunk to stop yourself from killing my son for defending my daughter’s honour from insult?’ Her father charged Brodie then, only being caught and held back at the last moment.

‘Aye, too drunk to intervene, my lord,’ Caelan replied. ‘The daggers were drawn so quickly we did not see them at first, but then Malcolm fell.’

‘He was dead before we could get to him,’ the other whispered. The man looked as though he had more to say but her father interrupted before he could.

‘I want him executed.’

Complete silence met those stark words. No one moved or spoke or even whispered.

‘Euan, you agreed to settle this,’ The Mackintosh said softly.

Her father let out a breath and returned to where the Mackintosh chieftain yet stood. Would he order the execution of his nephew?

‘Aye, Lachlan, I did agree. Get to it then,’ her father said. What was this devil’s bargain? What about the negotiations already completed?

‘With witnesses that can speak of your guilt and with you not being able to refute their words, I find you are guilty of murder.’

A gasp went up, echoing through the hall. Whether the Mackintoshes believed him guilty or were shocked that his uncle declared him to be, she knew not. Next would come the...

‘I sentence you to be outlawed from this clan and our allies. From this day forward, you are no longer kith or kin to the Mackintoshes or any of the Chattan Confederation.’

A few shouts erupted from the crowd—even Caelan called out against this punishment. The pronouncement shocked even her but she listened to the rest of it.

‘You are no one. Your name is gone. Anyone who kills you does so with impunity and without fear of punishment or retribution. All ties of blood or marriage are torn asunder from this moment on.’ His uncle’s voice wavered then and Arabella found her throat and eyes burning with tears. For Brodie? For Malcolm? For them all? She knew not which.

She waited for him to argue, to plead for mercy or appeal in some way, but he did nothing. His face lost all its colour and other than a slight shake of his head, he remained wordless.

The Camerons there did not remain silent, the cheering began and spread through the warriors. They would have the chance to avenge their kinsman’s death with no repercussions at all. She could see the lust for it in their eyes. It would not take them long to hunt him down and hang him like the mad dog they thought he was. She shuddered.

‘You have two hours,’ the chieftain continued. ‘You leave with what you have on your back and nothing more.’

‘Uncle...’ Brodie finally spoke. When he would have said more, his uncle backhanded him across his face, sending him reeling back.

‘You are not of my family, so do not call me that again. Go. Now. And never return here.’

She wanted to scream. She wanted...something. None of this felt real. Surely someone would wake her from this nightmare and tell her it was the stuff of dreams. Glancing over at her dead brother, she had to accept it as it was.

They released Brodie and he staggered through the hall and out into the yard. Though some looked as though they would speak to him, none did. Several minutes passed before her father and The Mackintosh spoke again.

‘I declare Caelan Mackintosh to be tanist of the Clan Mackintosh and heir to me personally and to the chief’s chair,’ he called out.

‘And I declare a betrothal agreement has been reached between us. My daughter, Arabella, will marry Caelan,’ her father replied.

Her father motioned to her to rise and come to him. Marriage? They thought of marriage now while her brother lay unshriven and unburied there between them? She struggled to her feet, helped and escorted by her aunt. Her father took her hand and the Mackintosh took Caelan’s and joined them. She could not breathe. She could not think. This was indecent and there was nothing she could do to stop it.

‘The marriage date will be set and our clans will be joined. The feud will end,’ her father said loudly. Releasing their hands, he walked away, calling out orders to ready for the journey home.

Lost, alone and in pain, Arabella did not know what to do.

‘Come, Lady Arabella,’ Caelan said softly, placing his arm around her shoulders and guiding her away. ‘Let the servants see to the tasks at hand and I will see you to your chambers.’

‘My thanks, Caelan,’ she whispered. She appreciated his strength right now. She needed something, someone, to hold on to and he was there for her. At her side where Malcolm had always stood.

‘This is not the way I wanted to win your hand in marriage, my lady. But we shall find a way through this. Together.’

Overwhelmed by the grief and shock, she allowed him to escort her to her chambers. In just a few hours, her entire world and family and dreams had been turned asunder. There would be a burial on their arrival back home. And a wedding to plan after that.

The only thing she could count on now was that she would be marrying Caelan Mackintosh. At least she’d learned the truth about the real nature of his cousin before she’d found herself married to such a despicable man.

Chapter Five

Four months later...

A
rabella walked around the large chamber and came to stand next to the window in the north wall. Her father had slept in this room during their last visit here, but he slept below in a smaller one now. Ailean and Aunt Gillie occupied the chamber outside this one.

The storms battered the stone keep with relentless winds and rain. This one had begun as soon as they passed under the gates and entered the yard three days ago. It was as though the weather felt her sadness and responded in kind. She sighed then, peering through the rain down into the yard.

The last time she’d seen Malcolm alive was there, in the yard, fighting with his friends against some of the Mackintosh warriors in a training exercise. It was all in the spirit of the approaching treaty, when they would become allies instead of enemies. Wiping the tears from her cheek, she turned and glanced around the chamber.

It had been four months yet the pain and tightness in her chest crushed her now just as it had then.

Malcolm dead. His murderer exiled and still uncaptured. The Mackintosh chieftain dead. And, on the morrow, she would wed Caelan Mackintosh, the new chieftain, and seal their treaty. And any sense of excitement or anticipation had died along with her brother.

‘Arabella?’ She’d not heard Ailean open the door.

‘Aye, I am ready,’ she said. Accepting the gold circlet that Caelan had presented to her on her arrival, Arabella placed it on her head as Ailean adjusted her hair. She took a deep breath and tried to let the sadness leave her as her breath did. Attending a feast to celebrate your marriage was not the time to be crying and mournful.

Caelan stood waiting at the bottom of the stairs, smiling and nodding as he saw her. Ailean stepped aside and allowed Caelan to walk at Arabella’s side. He took her hand in his and entwined their fingers in an intimate way. Lifting their joined hands to his mouth, he kissed hers and smiled again.

‘All will be well, Arabella,’ he whispered. ‘I know that you are feeling the loss keenly right now, but I hope it will pass.’ She felt a fool then, forgetting for that moment about
his
loss.

‘My lord, your pardon please,’ she whispered back. ‘You have suffered your own loss and I have not offered my condolences.’

His eyes lost their merriment and he nodded. They entered the main hall and he escorted her to the table on the dais. Her father stood there waiting and nodded to both of them. Caelan introduced her to the chieftains of the other branches of their Chattan Clan, some young, some old, but none appeared happy. When they reached their places, he waited for her to sit and then raised his cup.

‘To Arabella Cameron, soon my wife—’ Boisterous and bawdy cheers interrupted his words and he laughed. Then growing serious, he added, ‘And to the alliance our clans gain by this marriage.’

The hall erupted in cheering and clapping then, though some did not enter the frivolity. Some of the Mackintosh elders did not seem pleased...by her
or
the alliance.

When he said those words, she realised that her attempts to remain gracious during that earlier visit were completely missing now. And it was critical to both families that this marriage happen and this alliance be confirmed. There had been more outbreaks and skirmishes since her brother’s death and there would be more unless...

Unless she saw her duty through in good faith and humour.

Once the crowd calmed and Caelan sat beside her, she rose, cup in hand, and nodded at him.

‘To my lord, Caelan, The Mackintosh, soon to be my husband,’ she called out. She drank from the cup as they cheered and then raised it again. ‘To our alliance!’

Caelan stood then, took her hand in his and raised them. After a few moments, he lowered them and leaned closer. His intention clear, he did not pause. He kissed her, on the mouth, and though the action surprised her, the kiss was as expected.

Nice. Calm. Friendly.

She watched his eyes and closed hers for a moment before he ended it. The first true kiss between them and not a hint of the things the married women whispered about in it. For part of her, that was fine and good. Since Malcolm’s death, Arabella had been empty. She’d cried for days once they’d arrived home and through his burial for she felt as though part of her had died.

Then nothing. Empty.

Caelan waited for her to sit and then nodded at the servants to begin serving the meal. Since his uncle’s unexpected death two months ago, he had assumed the chieftain’s chair and inherited his titles and lands. Coming on the heels of... She could not keep her gaze from going to the other end of the table where Bro...
he
would have been seated.

The feelings she’d denied for months now began to bubble up within her then. Sorrow, loss, pain and hate pierced her heart and made her want to scream. Or run. Or both. Then Caelan reached over and covered her hand with his.

‘Hush now, Arabella,’ he whispered to only her. ‘I know how difficult it is to sit at this table in this hall. I must force myself every day to sit in my uncle’s chair and not to expect his entry into the hall. It will pass. For you and for me.’

Fighting back the tears, she nodded and he squeezed her hand once more before releasing it and turning back to speak with her father. Caelan was being kind in his understanding and she knew that she would do her duty and make this marriage work. She owed it to her father and to her brother who’d died because of her.

As they ate, she glanced around the hall. She noticed that not everyone was joining in the celebration. She searched for other Mackintoshes she might remember from the last time and could find none. What was his name? she thought as she looked for the man who’d ridden with them that one day to the clearing? Rob.

Arabella tried to be discreet while looking around. She realised that many people were not here. The hall, filled to the doorways and rear wall during previous feasts, stood half-empty this time. She knew that the number of Camerons was the same—well, but for one—so where were all the Mackintoshes?

‘I thought you would appreciate it if we kept the ceremony small. Considering...’ Caelan did not finish his words.

She sighed then. Their families had always had a history of pain and loss, caused by the other clan and visited on each other with severity and regularity. This was the way to end it. There would continue to be deaths and loss if she did not enter this marriage willingly. She’d been raised to this and not even grief would prevent her from bringing about peace between them.

‘I thank you for thinking of such concerns, Caelan,’ she said, nodding.

‘Are you anxious?’ he asked.

‘Aye,’ Arabella admitted to him. ‘But my aunt Gillie told me that it is customary for the bride to be a bit nervous the day before her wedding.’

She did not want him to think she was not willing to fulfil her part of this treaty. She would do her duty even as he did his, in the midst of sorrow and loss, but with a hope for peace between their families. So, in the long view of this situation, she was glad it was him she would marry. He was kind and polite and even caring towards her and she would do whatever she needed to do to make this a good marriage.

‘Ah, and so comes your aunt to claim you,’ he said, standing at her aunt’s approach to greet her. ‘Is it time then?’ he asked.

‘Aye, my lord,’ Aunt Gillie did her best curtsy before them. ‘You will see her on the morrow.’

‘Sleep well, Arabella. I will see you at the church.’

He leaned over and kissed her, on her mouth, much to the delight of those watching. They clamoured for more so he took her in his arms and kissed her again. Arabella tried to relax in his arms, knowing most of this was simply to demonstrate his willingness to accept her as his bride. He eased his embrace but held her close for a moment more before letting her go with her aunt.

‘That bodes well,’ Aunt Gillie whispered as they left the hall. ‘I worried that this time apart would sour things between you.’

It took little time to ready herself for bed, but nothing she did seemed to bring on the sleep she needed that night. The morrow promised to be a long, emotional day and Arabella wished to greet it in good humour and without the dark smudges of sleeplessness that appeared under her eyes when she did not rest well.

* * *

As the sun’s first light tried to chase away the fog, she yet stood by the window, staring across the yard and into the distance. Unable to sleep, she’d climbed from the bed some time ago and pulled on an old tunic and gown against the morning chill. This time of day was her favourite, just before dawn while quiet still ruled the land and the people. Stiff-limbed now from standing too long in one position, Arabella was about to turn away when one single ray of sunlight broke through the clouds and illuminated a spot on the hillside she could see.

The clearing.

The place Brodie had taken her to show her the extent of the lands that she would claim as wife to the next Mackintosh chieftain. She began to shudder before she knew it—her mind recognising the person who stood there now, outlined by the sun’s light. Her breath froze and she squinted to be certain.

It could only be him. Standing there, so close to justice and yet no one knew. If she called a warning, he would flee before... Another shiver, this one bone-deep, shook her.

Even knowing he’d killed Malcolm, there was a part of her that did not want to see him dead. At least not until she learned his motives for taking her brother’s life. At least until she knew the part she’d played by sending her brother to that gathering of men. She wanted to hear his explanation.

She moved around the chamber in silence, finished dressing and then crossed the outer chamber, passing the sleeping figures of her aunt and cousin. She was careful going down the stairs and through the keep and made her way to the stables. With a quiet word to a young boy there, she readied her horse as she usually did and climbed up on his back. Arabella was at the gate when it opened for the day and rode through it without a word, her cloak and hood pulled tightly around her.

Urging her horse faster, she leaned down low and pressed her knees to his sides. They covered the ground quickly as the horse’s strides lengthened and his speed increased. With barely a tug on the reins, she guided him away from the keep and up the road that would curve around the mountainside to where he was.

She would finally get the answers that would allow her own guilt to ease. She would get the opportunity to confront the man who had killed her brother. She would...

Empty.

As she rode through the final line of trees into the clearing, she found no one there. Searching the area, she saw and heard nothing in the stillness of the early morning to indicate that anyone had been there.

Letting out the breath she’d been holding, she walked the horse around the level place, allowing him to cool down from their strenuous ride here. Keeping her gaze on the path, Arabella waited and listened.

The ride back was slower as she faced the truth that it was not Brodie’s guilt but her own that had sent her on this mad quest for the truth. Her heart hurt as she knew that she had sent her brother to his death. She had been the catalyst for the chain of events that caused him to die. If she had not asked him to find out more about Brodie and Caelan, to take their measure, there would have been no fight, no words, no altercation that ended with a dagger in his chest.

Somehow the horse found its own way back to the keep and she rode through the gates to the stable. And she had no idea when the two guards that rode at her side had appeared.

The only thing she could do now to honour her brother’s death was to fulfil the purpose of their visit—to seal the bargain and end the feud. And she would.

No one could give her absolution for her part in sending him to his death.

* * *

‘Get back!’ Rob whispered harshly. His friend grabbed the back of his leather jack and pulled him deeper into the cover of the thick trees there. ‘Are you daft?’

‘They did not see me,’ Brodie said, tugging free.

He could not believe the sight of Arabella, riding at a full gallop on that beast of a horse up the road on the mountainside. She rode right into the clearing and he almost, almost, walked out to see her. A few minutes passed in the grey silence before she travelled back down towards the road to the keep. This time her mount walked and she stared off into the distance as they went by the copse of trees that hid him and Rob from view. He might have grabbed her then but for the two armed guards who rode up to meet her. And he knew that others would follow too closely now.

‘Have you changed your mind then? You’ve given up your mad plan?’

‘Not at all,’ he said, pushing through the branches and walking away from the road. He made his way back to where three others waited for them. ‘We stay true to the plan and do not let ourselves be distracted by surprises.’

‘And the lady? Is she not simply a distraction in all this?’ Rob asked from behind.

They’d argued this point many times over the past two weeks as the wedding date approached. Brodie would not be swayed from his intention—kidnapping Arabella to prevent the marriage. He turned so quickly that Rob nearly ran him down.

‘Aye, she is
the
distraction. Caelan uses this wedding to disguise his true intentions. Everyone is so very busy looking at the beautiful bride that no one sees his true motives or actions.’

Rob ran his hands through his hair and shook his head, a familiar gesture his friend did without even noticing it. ‘You are certain?’

He’d learned much during his past four months of exile and every bit of it pointed to his cousin’s very comprehensive and long-planned plot not only to take over the chieftain’s chair but to destroy the Camerons. Caelan’s goal was not peace and compromise, but complete destruction of the other clan.

And though he loved power and control as much as most men, the other clan had much to offer both in terms of goods and trade and stability in the area. He saw no reason to destroy an entire clan when there was gain to be had in letting them live.